


making forts under covers

by ivyrobinson



Series: call it what you want [3]
Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26131156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyrobinson/pseuds/ivyrobinson
Summary: some in-universe ficlets from call it what you want universe. mostly domestic fluff.
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Series: call it what you want [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879195
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	making forts under covers

Anya is very familiar with what being pregnant feels like. She’s been through it four times, and the third and fourth times only had her four months in between of both being pregnant, but the first four months of postpartum hardly count as not being pregnant so she was basically pregnant 22 months straight. 

However, as it has been eight years since she last gave birth, she’s very much in denial over the few telltale signs and red flags that have passed her way. 

“Mama,” Eloise is very much demanding her attention, holding out two different fabric samples. “Which one do I want to turn into a dress?” 

At twelve, she’s discovered the skill of making her own clothes, under the guidance of her favorite aunt. (Her words, Anya wouldn’t dare presume and upset any of her sisters.) 

“Just use them both,” Tris offers from where she’s laying on the floor, her feet in her younger brother’s lap as he reads a book. “It’ll be fashionable.” 

“For who?” Eloise asks, offended, and Anya’s not certain why she’s entertaining the opinion of a nine year old. 

“Me,” Tris decides, rolling over on the floor to sit up. “Make me a dress out of all your fabric samples.” 

Eloise looks as though she’s tempted to take on the challenge of making her younger sister the ugliest dress imaginable, so Anya decides to interfere. 

“I’m always partial to blue,” she says. “But if it’s for you, see if you can find something green to go with the little bit in your eyes.” 

Eloise has her father’s eyes, brown with little flecks of green and gold buried in their depths. Same as her older brother. Beatrice and August have the clear blue eyes of the Romanovs. 

“Or you can make a dress out mud,” Tris offers, unhelpfully but it finally draws a snicker of a laugh out of August, who has been trying his hardest to ignore his sisters. 

“Don’t say cruel things to your sister,” Anya reminds her. “Eloise has Papa’s eyes, and I like them very much.” 

“This has been entirely unhelpful,” Eloise announces before not quite storming out of the room. 

She’d always been warned she’d have a daughter like her and that it would be Eloise and fate had not disappointed. 

Dramatics and being twelve go together anyway. 

Anya would go up to go after her but a wave of nausea has kept her quite rooted to the sofa. She’s exhausted and she’s not certain if it’s actual fatigue or if she’s just exhausted from resisting the urge to throw up when she goes to stand. 

“You have too many children,” Tris announces, sitting up on her knees and resting her elbows on Anya’s lap. 

“Clearly her and Papa should’ve taken a longer break after Eloise,” August offers, causing Tris to turn her head sharply. 

Anya barely manages to reach out and hold Tris from pouncing on her brother. 

“Now, Little Bea, remember he’s your favorite sibling,” Anya tells her. 

“Thought we weren’t supposed to have favorites when it comes to family,” Tris points out. 

“As a mother, I do not have a favorite,” Anya confirms. “As a sister, it does happen.” 

Tris giggles in response. “Papa would never say that.” 

“Papa is an only child,” she points, reaching over to stroke Tris’s hair. “He does not know the complexities of sibling relationships.”

“He and the Uncles should band together to be siblings of sorts,” Tris announces, referring to her Uncle Vik and Uncle Robert, who was married to Olga. She assumed Alexei was not included in that. Alexei and Tatiana remain unmarried. Part of her wonders if Alexei just has a fear of him in particular having children bringing up old politics and uprisings. 

Tatiana declared her profession as a nurse her true love and had never ended up marrying. She shared a flat with Katya near the hospital they worked at. 

“Oh that would be easy,” Anya whispers to her youngest daughter, “It would be Viktor all the way.” 

Tris giggles and then lets out a sigh leaning against Anya’s legs. 

She can hear the door open in the distance and August shoots up to go find his brother and father, finally getting a break from the all female household it’s been for the last few hours. 

Tris waits a moment before following after him, clearly more interested in bothering her brothers than anything else. 

It gives Anya a moment to breathe but that also leads her to thinking. 

Dmitry walks in alone, and drops a kiss on her lips in greeting. “You okay?”

She wrinkles her nose that he’s able to tell her moods and ailments so easily. 

She evades the question for the moment. “Where did the children go?” 

“Outside to play,” Dmitry answers, sitting on the sofa next to her. He wraps an arm around her and she moves her legs to cross his laps. It’s a bit of an anchor in the unsteadiness of her nausea, feeling his arms around her. “Eloise?”

“In her room, trying to create something,” she responds. Anya tilts her head up, “Do I seem different to you?”

“Prettier,” he tries, kissing her again. “But you do get prettier every day.” 

“Stop,” she chides him, meaning with the flattery, she brings his mouth back to her neck. “Other than that.” 

“You trimmed your hair last week,” he muses, glancing over at her. Then his gaze goes to her midsection. “Is it….?”

“I don’t know,” Anya sighs, her hands resting on her abdomen. There’s nothing to feel differently there yet but she’s an old pro at this. “Not officially at least.” 

“Well this is a surprise,” he says, resting his hand over hers. 

“Good surprise?” 

“Always,” he tells her, leaning over and kissing her. “Would have a dozen children with you.” 

“That’s not what you said when Tris was barely one and August was a newborn,” she teases. 

“That was sleep deprivation,” he waves it off. “Now that I’ve had seven years of sleep, I would.”

She laughs softly, a weight lifted off of her chest now that she’s shared it with Dmitry. “Let’s try to stop after this one, we’ve run out of room.” 

“Could discuss moving again,” Dmitry points out. With what’s going on in Germany, the tensions are high in Europe again and they’re still raw from all the political upheaval of their youth. And early adulthood. 

“Let’s adjust to this news first,” Anya decides. “And make sure it’s official, and then tell the children.” 

That’ll be the worst part. They’re all old enough to have actual reactions now. Robin wasn’t even yet two when they announced he was being a big brother. He was five and Eloise still a toddler when they had Beatrice and then a little over a year later they had August. None of them had a chance to get used to being the youngest until August. 

Now they were sort of set in their sibling placement. 

“Don’t need to adjust,” he tells her, giving her a light squeeze. “But we can wait for the other.” 

“Do you think I’ll remember how to be pregnant?” Anya asks him, leaning against him.

“Let’s hope,” Dmitry responds. “Or you might end up giving birth in our bed again.”

Anya gasps, and looks down to glare at her stomach, “Don’t you dare.” 

A groan comes from the doorway and their oldest walks in from the outside. 

“You two aren’t done having kids yet?” 

“We did so well the first time we just have to keep trying to recreate you,” Anya calls after him, and Robin just shakes his head. “Don’t tell your siblings!” 

Dmitry tucks his face against her shoulder as he laughs.


End file.
